


Joe Jonas Doesn't Ride the Bus

by smithereen



Category: Jonas Brothers
Genre: Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-14 13:45:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19274542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithereen/pseuds/smithereen
Summary: Written for a Jonas Harlequin challenge. Joe's got himself a sweet deal, living rent-free in a fabulous mansion owned by his absentee brother. But when Nick returns home after years traveling the world, he's ready to settle down. Now Joe's got to prove to him that having Joe around is better than any wife Nick could find.





	Joe Jonas Doesn't Ride the Bus

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ in June 2009.

Joe tossed his sunglasses onto the giant pile of other sunglasses spread out over the kitchen counter, and rummaged around in the refrigerator for a Coke. He poked through the old take-out boxes, wrinkling his nose at one particularly stenchy box of what might have once been Chinese before grabbing a slice of cold pizza that couldn't have been more than a week old. He toed off his shoes on his way through the dining room, grabbing the remote out of the corner pocket of the pool table, and how had that even gotten there? Oh well. He shoved a stack of half folded laundry and half read books over to make room for himself on the couch and tossed himself backward with a satisfied grunt, his finger already on the remote.

"Well," Nick said from the doorway. "Isn't this cozy?"

Joe managed to turn his startled shriek into a cough (almost) and set his Coke down on the table before he could spill the entire can on his lap. "Little bro!" he said. "You're home!" Nick was frowning as he reached over to put a coaster under Joe's Coke can. Joe dragged Nick into a tight hug. "I didn't know you were- _Did_ I know you were coming home? How long are you here for?" Joe used the hug to shove some of his unfolded boxers under the couch with his toe, and then pulled back to look at Nick. His little brother wasn't so little anymore. Nick had an inch or two on him now. His face was tan, and his curly hair had grown a bit unruly. When he crossed his arms over his chest, his forearms flexed, and his biceps bunched under the rolled up sleeves of his worn, but impeccably clean, button-up shirt. He looked like Indiana Jones without the hat and whip. The world traveler, with untold adventures behind the beads wrapped around his wrist and the little metal apple resting in the hollow of his throat.

"Bulgaria was cold," Nick said. "Kept raining. I guess you could say I got a little homesick."

"You?" Joe punched Nick on his broad shoulder, and laughed. "Aren't you the same guy who told me life was too short to spend it all in one place? You're a rolling stone, man!"

Nick smiled a little, one of his tight smiles that was all lip and no teeth. "I was sixteen when I said that. Things are-" He shrugged his shoulders. "A little different now."

Joe felt a quick, sharp stab of alarm. He liked the way things were. Nick off adventuring. Joe staying rent free in Nick's big, beautiful house and swimming in Nick's pool and driving whichever one of Nick's three cars struck his fancy. "Different how?" he said.

"It's just time I settled down." Nick looked around at the room with his hands jammed in his pockets. Joe could see him noticing the pile of video game equipment Joe had left scattered out in front of the television, and the half-finished crossword puzzles he'd left all over the coffee table, and the empty cups marooned all over the pool table. "I've thought a lot about it, and I'm tired of not knowing what's around the corner. I kind of want something steady. A home cooked meal, a closet full of clothes instead of just what I can fit in my backpack. I want to wake up in my own bed with someone warm beside me." Nick swiped his hand across the top of the television and blew the thick dust off his fingers. "Maybe even kids? I don't know."

Joe's mouth flopped open and closed, but no sound came out.

Nick clapped Joe on the shoulder with his hand. "Don't freak out," he said. Too late. Way, way too late for that. Freaking out was already in progress. "It's not like I'm getting married tomorrow. You'll have plenty of time to find a new place."

He said some other things too, but Joe could barely hear him over the sound of his entire life crashing down around him. He was going to have to find a place of his own, and on his ridiculous bartender's salary there would be no pool, and the shower wouldn't even have any wall jets, and he would have to take the _bus_. Joe's jaw firmed. There was no way he was taking the bus. He would just have to be the best roommate ever so Nick couldn't imagine living without him. He would just have to make sure Nick never, ever got married.

*

Joe was on a mission the next morning, vacuuming and making sure there weren't any of his clothes in any of the rooms except his own, and washing all Nick's laundry, and clearing out the old take-out boxes, and running around on a cup and plate Easter Egg Hunt finding discarded dishes in planters and on bookshelves and under beds. Nick was sleeping in, jet-lagged after his flight, and Joe wanted the place spotless by the time he woke up. He had the best of intentions. But then Montel was on, and Joe totally deserved a break for working so hard. And then he figured that episode of Clean House would be inspirational. And then All my Children was on, and he needed to see how Kendall and Zack were doing. And really, it wasn't like Nick was going to find someone to marry _today_ or this week or next month. It took years for that kind of stuff to happen. Joe was fine. There was no rush.

Nick ambled out mid-afternoon. His boxers were riding low on his slim hips, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt so Joe got a good eyeful of exactly how big his little brother's shoulders had gotten, at the golden tan of his skin. He had just a hint of a farmer's tan, just a little darker on his arms. He scratched at his side absently, blinking drowsiness from his eyes. His mouth was moving, Joe noticed. His lips were really very- Pretty. Joe blinked, and shook himself a little when he realized the reason Nick's lips were moving was because he was saying something.

"What?" Joe said.

"Where are all my clothes?" Nick enunciated.

"Oh!" Joe said. "I washed them. I was just going to put them in the dryer." He looked at the TV. "On the commercial break."

Nick glared at him.

"Or right now." He jumped off the couch and hustled toward the laundry room. Perfect roommate, he reminded himself. He was being the best roommate ever. "You can grab something of mine."

"Thanks." Nick yawned, his mouth gaping wide. His curls were drooping down into his sleepy eyes. He ambled away toward Joe's room, and Joe was not staring at the slope of his back, the way his spine curved long and elegant down to the elastic of his boxers. Of course he wasn't. That would be- Weird. He was just- Making sure Nick didn't get lost. It was a big house. Nick hadn't been home in a while. These were valid concerns.

*

It was funny how Joe's shirt didn't quite fit Nick. Joe could remember a time when Nick had been completely lost in his shirts, swimming in baggy fabric. Now the thin material of Joe's Ramones Tee stretched tight across Nick's chest, hugged his ribs, bit into his armpits. He bent over to look inside the refrigerator. "We need food." He poked at something in the butter tray that was clearly not butter.

"There are take-out menus in the drawer," Joe said helpfully. He leaned in close to reach past Nick and pull a peach from the bottom shelf. "Here," he said. "This is still good."

Nick took the peach and washed it, grimacing at the dishes still piled in the sink. He cut off the mushy bottom, and sniffed the rest experimentally before taking a bite. Juice gushed over his fingers, running down the inside of his arm. He licked it up, his tongue cutting a wide, wet path to the curve of his wrist. He slurped at the peach, his lips wrapping open around the gaping bite he'd taken. Joe licked his lips and swallowed.

"I need real food," Nick said as he tossed the stripped pit into the garbage. He sucked the peach stickiness from his fingertips, pink tongue flicking, thumb disappearing between his lips. "And a haircut." Joe looked down at himself, blinking confused at the uncomfortable pressure of his jeans against his thickening prick. He quickly turned to pull one of the drawers open and pretend to look for a spoon. It wasn't that he'd never gotten hard in front of his brother before. They'd both been through puberty. Boners happened. But this was- Not the same. This felt kind of- Personal. He sucked in a quiet, shuddery breath and thought about NASCAR until he felt sort of normal, sort of less prickly hot all over.

Nick grabbed his keys off the counter. "Want to come?"

"Nah," Joe said. "My hair's perfect." He grinned when he saw the little smile on Nick's face. Nick scrunched his face up like he didn't want to laugh, which only made Joe run his hands through his hair super dramatically, flashing pursed Blue Steel lips to force the snort and the chuckle from Nick. "You shop," he said. "I'll do the dishes."

"Deal." Nick clapped his hands down on Joe's shoulders and shook him a little. His hands were huge and hot, squeezing once before letting Joe go. It was funny how it made Joe feel a little bit like he couldn't catch his breath.

*

Joe really, really meant to do the dishes. He put the soap in and ran the water and everything. But then the timer had dinged on the dryer, and he had to get Nick's clothes folded before they wrinkled. And then on his way to the laundry room he had noticed that stack of newspapers that needed to go out to the recycling. And then on his way to the end of the driveway he had run into Greg from down the street, and they were just going to play one quick round of Guitar Hero but somehow they were still playing when Nick got home.

"Hey!" Joe said. "You're back!"

"I'm back," Nick agreed, juggling a couple of paper grocery bags. Joe was going to help him, but then he managed to kick the door closed with his foot, so Joe figured he had it all under control. He got kind of busy thrashing Greg on "Stairway to Heaven" and by the time he was done, all the groceries had been put away and Nick was halfway done with the dishes.

"Oh," Joe said. "I was going to do those."

Nick peered at him over his shoulder, smiling his little no teeth smile. "I can tell you're busy."

Joe kicked Greg out and wandered back to the kitchen. He snagged a Coke from the newly restocked fridge. He ruffled his fingers through Nick's shorter now curls, tugging on the ends a little. "I like it," he said.

Nick laughed, flashing Joe narrowed Blue Steel eyes and sucked in cheeks. Joe shoved him with his shoulder and took over rinsing. "So," Joe said. "What are we having for dinner?"

"You're having a night out," Nick said.

Joe cocked his eyebrow.

"I have a date," Nick said. "I need the house to myself."

Joe tried not to choke on his soda. "What?" he said. "How did you- You've been here like 12 hours!"

"I met this girl at the store," Nick said.

Joe stared. Of course he had. Of course. Because this was Nick they were talking about. Nick who climbed mountains, and ran around the Serengeti with the gazelles, and lived on riverboats in Thailand. This was Nick who looked like _that_. Joe had been kidding himself thinking he could relax, that he had time to goof around and let things slide. If Nick wanted something, there was no way he wasn't getting it. And getting it fast. Which meant if Joe wanted to keep from being booted out on the street to make room for Nick's new wife, Nick's new life of domestic bliss, he had to get serious about making sure Nick already had as much domestic bliss as he could handle.

*

Nick was standing in the doorway when Joe got home from the movies. He was standing in the doorway with his _date_. He was leaning into her, crowding her up against the doorframe, with one hand braced on the wall by her shoulder and one hand curled around her hip. He was ducking a little, and she was craning up into him, and their lips were slip-sliding lazy, slow and Joe could see Nick's tongue licking, licking at her mouth. Joe couldn't stop looking at the way he leaned, the way he pressed against her, solid and bigger than her and moving just the littlest bit against her, pushing. Joe could feel each little push of Nick's hips throbbing in his cock.

He cleared his throat as he came up the last step and moved into the porch light. The girl made a helpless little whimpering sound into Nick's open mouth. Joe cleared his throat louder and scuffed his feet against the welcome mat. Nick opened his eyes slowly and turned his head, blinking like he was coming awake.

"Hey." Joe gave him a little wave. "I'm- That's-" He motioned at them. "That's the doorway. I- Have to go through it."

Nick nodded, and pushed himself up off the wall with a flex of his arm. The girl wiped at her chin with the back of her hand, flushing and not meeting Joe's eyes.

"So," Nick said. "I'll call you tomorrow?"

She nodded, and stretched to press her lips to the underside of his chin right at the corner of his jaw, before darting off toward her car. She fumbled with the keys, having trouble getting them to fit into the lock. Flustered. Nick waited for her to pull away from the drive, raising his hand in a wave, before shutting the door behind him.

"That looked like it went well," Joe said. "Should I dust off my tux for your wedding?"

"You don't have a tux," Nick snorted. "And no, Joseph. I don't propose on the first date."

"Old-fashioned," Joe nodded knowingly.

"Exactly." Nick pushed Joe in the direction of his room. "Good night," he said firmly.

"But you're going out with her again?" Joe said, half turning while Nick propelled him down the hall.

"I said I'd call, didn't I?"

"But you're going to wait three days, right?" Joe said. "Because everyone agrees that you should-"

"Good _night_ ," Nick said even more firmly.

"I just think-" Joe started.

Nick wrapped his arms around Joe's shoulders, squeezing him until he stopped talking, stopped moving. "Good. Night. Joseph," he said loudly right into Joe's ear. Joe could feel Nick's breath on his ear, on his neck. Could feel Nick pressed warm against his back. Joe stood very still for a long moment, trying not to breathe too hard because every breath stretched him out, pressed him closer, tighter against Nick's skin. He felt sort of claustrophobic and right on the verge of bursting, like he needed something, and he didn't- He didn't know what it was, but he needed it so, so much it ached, sweet and deep and- He elbowed Nick sharply in the gut, and Nick let go of him with an _ooof_ , shoving his hand roughly through Joe's hair and pushing at his head. Nick laughed, and Joe laughed too, almost managing to pull Nick down into a head lock until he pinched Joe in that ticklish spot right underneath his ribs and sent him jerking abruptly away.

Nick caught him by the elbow before he could escape into his room, and held him, smiling one of his rare wide smiles with all his teeth showing. "Good night," he said very sweetly, but his grip on Joe's arm was iron. "Joseph." He raised his eyebrows expectantly for an answer.

"Good night, Nicholas," Joe parroted obediently.

Nick nodded approvingly and pushed Joe toward his room with a wide open palm against the back of his neck.

"But definitely wait three days to call," Joe blurted and slammed the door.

*

Joe got up early the next morning. Really, really early. He set his alarm and everything. It took him like half an hour to even figure out how to set the thing, but he did it, and he only hit the snooze once. This was serious. He was going to get a head start on that whole spotless house thing while Nick was still asleep. He was going to make Nick breakfast. He was on top of this situation. He staggered into the kitchen bleary eyed and desperate for caffeine.

Nick was standing by the sink, his curls damp, his cheeks flushed, his shirt clinging wet to his chest. He sucked down half a bottle of water before he said, "Morning."

"You're- Wet." Joe blinked at him. "Did you fall in the pool?"

Nick bit down on his bottom lip a little to hold the laugh in. "I went for a run."

Joe couldn’t help making a face. He could understand the appeal of team sports, but running just to run? In the heat? By yourself? Yuck. You might as well just ask someone to hit your legs with sticks or- Nick lifted the bottom of his shirt to swipe at his sweaty face, and Joe's train of thought fizzled to silence. Nick's stomach was still heaving a little from the exercise, and his skin was all slick, and- Joe raised his eyes. Nick was peering at him over the hem of his shirt. His eyebrows slid up slowly. "What?" he said finally.

"Just making a mental list of all the things I'd rather do than go running. So far I have it narrowed down to everything ever."

Nick snorted into his shirt before letting it drop back down over his belly.

"I'll make coffee," Joe said. Nick turned a little, and motioned to the coffee machine with his elbow. Joe listened to it burbling and brewing. "Okay," he said. "I'll make breakfast." Nick motioned with his other elbow to the toaster. Joe stared accusingly at the bagel inside. He should have been the one to toast that bagel. He'd set the alarm and everything. "Did you wallpaper the garage too? Mow the lawn? Sew yourself a new pair of pants?"

"Yeah, I- Have no idea what you're talking about."

"How long have you been up?" Joe said reproachfully. "Why were you up at some ungodly hour? Are you still on Japanese time or something where you think it's already tomorrow?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "Joe. It's 9:30."

"I know!" Joe said. "It's like the crack of dawn, and you've already-" He motioned wildly at the kitchen, at Nick, at the microwave.

"Learned sign language?" Nick said. "What is this?" He flapped his hands around half-heartedly, spilling a little of the water from his bottle.

"I'm just saying, I'm trying to be helpful," Joe said. "And do nice things for you. And be _helpful_. But you're just- Not making it easy, dude."

Nick leaned back against the sink and crossed his arms over his chest. "First of all. 9:30 is not early. Most productive citizens would agree with me."

"I'm productive," Joe protested. "I have a job. It's not my fault bars aren't open so I can tend them at 6 o'clock in the morning or whenever you think real jobs happen."

"Joe!" Nick said, holding up one hand to stop him. "I didn't mean it like that." He had his head cocked, and he waited with his brow furrowed. "Okay?"

"Okay," Joe said sullenly.

"Okay," Nick agreed.

"Just- I work four days a week almost every week. I'm not a slacker."

"O _kay_ ," Nick said. "I know that." He braced his hands on the edge of the sink behind him and pushed off a little, forearms flexing. There was sweat beaded in the hollow of his throat. "What I was trying to say is, you don't have to-" He kicked at the counter with his heel and started over. "I mean, no one's asking you to change your routine. I'm not saying I don't want you to pitch in. Or to clean some of your shit up. Please, feel free to clean up your shit. But whatever you're trying to do here is just- It's not you, and-"

"I'm just trying to _help_ ," Joe said. "It would be nice if you would let me. Instead of being so _you_ all the time. Not ever needing anything." He looked down at his bare feet, curling his toes into the tile. "I want to be- Useful."

When he looked up, Nick had this patronizing smile on his face. Joe hated that smile a lot. He got that Nick was the successful one who'd sold his Internet start up and become a millionaire at the age of 17. He got that Nick had seen a lot more of the world than Joe had, and built houses for orphans in Africa and climbed Mount Fuji or whatever. He got that when his parents told people about the two of them, Nick was the headline and Joe was the footnote. That was okay. Joe was proud of Nick too. What wasn't okay was Nick looking at him like that. Like he couldn't imagine any possible situation where maybe he would actually _need_ Joe. Like Joe was just an idiot who couldn't do _anything_. Joe could do a lot. If he felt like it. Just most of the time he didn't feel like it was all.

"Come on," Joe said. He meant for it to come out loud and angry, but it came out smaller than that. "I'm not that big a screw up."

Nick's lips twisted, and he reached out to pull Joe in against his shoulder. His hand wrapped around the nape of Joe's neck, and his t-shirt was clammy with sweat, but his skin was so, so hot underneath. He sighed a little, and kind of petted Joe's hair where it curled against his neck, his thumb rubbing, stroking just behind Joe's ear. "You're not- You're fine, Joe," Nick said. "You're good." And Joe had to blink hard, to swallow past the sudden sharp ache in his throat like he was about to cry. Joe pushed himself away from Nick, but Nick held on to Joe's shoulder, keeping him from stepping back all the way. "I was going to paint my office and put up some shelves later today." He shrugged. "I could use some help."

Joe smiled, trying really hard not to smile too crazy big, but he felt too good and his lips weren't listening. "I would love to help." Nick let his shoulder go with a little push of stiff fingers. Joe was still grinning. "You should take a shower first though," he said. "And by first I mean now. Because the stench-"

Nick shook his head, biting his lip a little. "Just because you've never exercised a day in your life."

"-is just awful," Joe continued. "I mean it's really, really-"

"Or worked up an honest sweat." Nick stripped his shirt over his head, ruffling his hair in the process.

"-bad," Joe said. "I think maybe it could be some kind of health hazard or-" He dodged when Nick tried to grab him. "I mean it's at the point where it could impact the-" Nick caught him and tried to force the crumpled up shirt into Joe's face. "-community," he gasped out, twisting his head away.

Nick had him backed up against the wall. "I really appreciate your input," Nick said. He had a handful of Joe's shirt in his fist, and he was using his bent forearm to hold Joe against the wall. Joe pushed himself up, off the wall for a second, straining, but Nick's hip pressed hard against him, and his arm flexed, shoving Joe right back down. He let out a little huff when the wall smacked against his shoulder blades, and Nick's face was right there. He was grinning, and his eyes were dark, and there was still a little sweat shining at his temples, slick right above his upper lip. Joe squirmed once experimentally, and Nick's hip slid a little just beside his cock, and he was- Oh God, Nick was going to notice that he was starting to get hard, and he was going to think it was so weird. Joe stopped struggling. He closed his eyes, and Nick smushed his sweaty shirt into Joe's face for a second. It was damp, and stale sour with drying sweat, and Joe meant to hold his breath but he didn't. It wasn't that it smelled good, it was just that it was _Nick_ , like being smothered in Nick.

He could feel himself getting harder, his cock stiffening up in slow, slow motion like watching a glass fall off the counter when there's nothing you can do to stop it. He flushed hot and forced himself not to cover his dick with his hands like he was a twelve year old popping his first boner, like he had something to be embarrassed about. Then Nick was easing off him. Joe opened his eyes cautiously, and Nick had already turned away to grab the rest of his water off the counter. He tossed his shirt over his shoulder and headed for the bathroom, reaching over to tug at Joe's hair with his fingers on his way past. Maybe he said something, but the thick thumping of Joe's heartbeat was too loud.

Joe carefully didn't think about Nick at all when he was jacking himself in his room, but Joe could still smell him. He came with his eyes closed and his mouth open, Nick's scent coating every breath.

*

Joe didn't know if it was just the fumes getting to him, but painting was actually kind of fun. Moving all the furniture to the center of the room had not been that much fun. Nick's desk weighed approximately fourteen thousand pounds, and then there were the bookshelves, and even worse there were all the books on the bookshelves. Why couldn't Nick just put a bunch of pictures and seashells or statues of clowns or something on his shelves like normal people? But painting was sort of relaxing in a weird way. It was like manual labor, but without so much bending and lifting. There was just the squeak of Nick's paint roller, and watching the white walls get eaten up by green, and teasing Nick about missing a spot (he fell for it every time). Joe rolled slowly over the portrait of Nick he'd done before they started. It was what he was calling an abstract interpretation. Nick had called it a stick figure, but the one Nick had done of him really wasn't any better. Anyway Joe thought he had really captured something around the mouth and ears. By far his best work. He watched it disappear into the green, but he kind of liked that it was still there, underneath, even if they were the only ones who knew.

"So what exactly is your plan here?" Joe said.

"Well, I was thinking we wait for the paint to dry, and then we put up the shelves." Nick rolled a thick line of paint on the wall. "But I guess I'm open to suggestion."

"Not that plan," Joe said. "Like, your _plans_. The things you're going to do with your life now that you're hanging up your passport."

"We talked about this," Nick said. "I'm just looking to settle down."

"Right," Joe said. "But what else? I mean that can't be all." He looked over at Nick. "You can't spend the rest of your life just eating home-cooked meals and snuggling on the couch with your future wife. Obviously, you'll be working on something." Hopefully something really huge and ambitious that would distract Nick's attention from this whole dating thing as soon as he got started on it. Hopefully something he was going to get started on right away.

Nick shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "I'm just taking things as they come. Chilling."

"Chilling?" Joe said in disbelief. "You?"

"I can chill," Nick said.

"Uh. No," Joe said. "You can't. People do not become millionaires before they even have their driver's licenses by chilling. Hell, you just spent six years seeing every single thing there is to see because doing anything less than everything bored you to tears. And now, what? You're just going to _chill_."

"Yeah." Nick calmly rolled more paint on the wall. "I am."

"Bullshit. Some of us were born to slack off. Sadly, you were not."

"I didn't say I was going to sit in front of the television for the rest of my life," Nick said. "I just meant I'm not planning anything. I'm just letting things happen."

Joe looked at Nick skeptically, watching him paint more green onto the wall with long, efficient strokes. Joe looked over at the carefully lined up drill and screws and shelves, at the furniture in the center of the room that Nick had covered with a plastic sheet so tidy it practically had hospital corners. "I give it a week before you're building a house with your bare hands or something."

Nick shook his head. "It's been a long time, Joe. People change."

Joe's gut twisted hard with a lurch like looking over the edge of a balcony on the fortieth floor. Just the idea that he didn't know Nick, that Nick could change that much while he wasn't looking. But that was- Not possible. Joe watched the last of his artwork disappear under the paint. Nick had grown up, but he hadn't changed. "Not that much," Joe said. He looked over and saw Nick shrugging. He seemed really far away all of a sudden. Joe took an uneasy step closer to him, and then another.

"Watch out for the-" Nick said, right as Joe stepped in the paint pan. He looked down at his toes squishing through the thick sage green. He lifted his foot up uncertainly, then put it back down, paint slimy wet against his skin. "Just-" Nick held up his hand. "Don't move."

He ran off, and Joe swirled his big toe through the paint, drawing a smiley face that disappeared into the thick ooze. He dropped his foot back down into the pan, and turned to paint a little bit more of the wall while he was waiting.

"Okay," Nick said. He had a bucket of water in one hand, and a roll of paper towels in the other. "I have the situation in hand."

"Or in foot," Joe said.

Nick rolled his eyes. "Lame," he said as he knelt down.

Joe kind of wanted to touch him, like that would settle the rolling uneasiness that still shifted in him. He lifted his foot and managed to slide his toe across Nick's cheek before Nick grabbed Joe's ankle and pulled. Joe hopped, trying to keep his balance. Nick looked up at him, green paint smeared across his cheekbone.

"Are you done?" he said, in his humoring the children voice.

Joe grabbed Nick's shoulder for balance so he could reach down and dip his fingers into the paint. He stroked his index finger down the bridge of Nick's nose, leaving a thick line of paint behind. Nick stared at him, jaw clenching a little, but completely still otherwise.

" _Now_ I'm done," Joe said.

"Good," Nick said. He squeezed Joe's ankle in his hand. "Because the only reason I'm not kicking your ass right now is I don't want to get paint all over the carpet."

He dipped some paper towels in the bucket and swiped them over Joe's foot. Joe tensed up at the cold, at the wet, at the tickle. He jerked, but not hard enough to break Nick's grip on his ankle.

"Stop squirming," Nick said.

Joe strained to stay still. His toes curled under, and his leg jerked involuntarily as Nick dragged the paper towels wide and wet up the arch of Joe's foot. Nick folded the paper towels and stroked down, right over the sensitive instep again, teasing slow. Joe jerked, a full body shiver, his fingers digging into Nick's shoulders.

"You're doing that on purpose," he said accusingly.

Nick looked up with paint bright on his cheek, in his ear, on his nose. He grinned.

"Oh my God, you _are_ ," Joe said. He reached down with his paint covered hand and clutched at Nick's hair, leaving a paint hand print in the curls right over his forehead.

"You did _not_ just do that." Nick had a scary look in his eyes, the kind of look he'd gotten that Halloween Joe hadn't let him come to the Haunted House with his friends from school. The Halloween he'd snuck into Joe's room while he was sleeping and cut off half Joe's hair.

"Remember the carpet," Joe warned.

Nick was still looking at Joe while he smushed his hand slowly into the paint pan with an ominous squelching noise. Joe tried hopping out of reach, but Nick still had a grip on his ankle. Nick gave his ankle a quick jerk and while Joe was distracted trying to catch his balance, Nick stood up, transferring his grip to Joe's wrist. Joe kicked at him with his paint foot, but Nick batted it easily aside, paint streaking his arm. Joe left a smudge across Nick's chest as he tried to push Nick away. Nick left a handprint right in the middle of Joe's face, and then smeared down from Joe's forehead to his chin.

Joe sputtered, tasting paint. His foot fell halfway to the ground while he swiped at his face with his clean hand. "Don't!" Nick said. "You dare!" Joe hopped, ungainly, fighting not to lick at the paint on his lips. One of his eyes was gunked shut, eyelashes heavy with paint. He cocked his eyebrows, and let his foot drop, teasing. Nick grabbed his knee, leaving a faint hand print that caught his skin through the hole in his jeans.

"Outside," Nick said. Joe shrugged helplessly. He could feel paint dripping down his neck, and his eye was still squinched shut. He motioned to himself with his green hand. "Right," Nick said. He kicked the bucket under Joe's foot, and steered him out the sliding glass door into the back yard, Joe taking slow, bucket dragging steps. Joe swiped at his face with his shirt until he had both his eyes back, just in time for Nick to hit him in the face with the spray from the hose. Joe snorted a little water, and coughed, putting his hand up, palm out to divert the spray.

"Not the face, man."

"Sorry," Nick said. He didn't look that sorry. Joe lifted his leg with a sigh so Nick could spray the paint off his foot. He held out his arms too, watching the green slough off into the grass. The spray started inching up his chest, and he frowned at Nick warningly. "The paint is on your face, dude," Nick said. Joe lunged over and snatched the hose from Nick's hand, turning the spray on him.

"It's on yours too."

Nick tucked his chin in against his neck while Joe blasted the paint out of his hair. Nick ran his fingers through his curls, unsticking the places where the paint was drying stiff. He winced when the spray hit him in the face, and held his hand up. "Okay, okay," he said. "I shouldn't have sprayed you in the face."

"I think there's still a little on your cheek," Joe said. He kept spraying. Nick glared. Really hard. Joe only waited a little bit longer before he finally cut off the spray. They both stood there for a second, dripping and breathing heavy. Joe was grinning. Nick launched himself at Joe in a full out tackle, and Joe barely had time to shout before they both crashed into the pool.

Nick twisted them both under the water, pushing Joe down until they touched the concrete bottom. He wavered in the broken sunlight. His eyes were squeezed shut against the chlorine, and his shirt shifted around him, dragged up by the water. Joe kept his eyes open. The oversized basketball shorts Nick'd dug out of the back of Joe's closet were hanging dangerously low, his hip bones sharp above the elastic. There was something just below his hip bone, black and pointed. Nick with a tattoo? No way. Joe swam closer, but Nick was already scissoring his legs, heading up. Joe followed him back to the surface, breaking through the water with a gasp for air. Nick laughed, flopping backward to float on his back. He squinted up into the sun. Joe pushed a little wave of water over at him. Nick's shirt billowed out, and then shifted up with the motion of the water. Joe stared at the flashes of black ink on Nick's skin, disappearing, reappearing underneath his shirt. Nick had his eyes closed, face turned up to the sun, his hands smoothing quietly through the water beside him while he floated. Joe tread water beside him, his legs churning. He drifted a little closer, his tongue flicking out to taste the chlorine on his lips. He watched the water lap against Nick's side until he just- He had to.

Joe hooked his thumb in the waistband of Nick's trunks and pulled them down, a slow, sodden drag, so he could see. It was tasteful of course. Nick wasn't exactly the type to have a dancing hula girl or a giant tiger head or something. It was tasteful and it was small, just the points of a compass slightly elaborate like it belonged on an old-timey pirate map. It was so black against Nick's skin. Joe pressed his thumb down over it. The compass points poked out around his finger. He pressed down harder, harder, until he dimly heard Nick hiss. Nick's skin was slick wet, chilled from the water. Joe moved his finger slowly up like he was trying to smear the ink.

"Joe?" Nick said. Joe looked up, feeling sort of like he was still underwater. He felt heavy and slow, sort of drugged. Nick had cracked his eyes open, and he was looking at him like he was trying to decide if Joe was actually crazy.

Joe raised an eyebrow. "Did you spend some time in a Thai prison that I don't know about?"

"Yeah," Nick said, smirking. "I did. But that's not where I got it."

He was joking, but Joe felt that twisted up ache in his gut again, that scary feeling that he'd missed too much, that he didn't know where Nick had been or what he'd done or who he'd done it with. He wasn't the shy kid who depended on Joe to break the ice, to cover for him if a conversation went sour. He wasn't the skinny kid who spent all his free time writing PHP code on his computer. He wasn't the goofy little brother who always thought Joe had the best ideas for games, even after Barbarian Chase had ended with fourteen stitches right over Nick's ear. Joe looked back down at the tattoo, and realized he was stroking it with his thumb like he expected to feel it on his skin. Probably he should stop touching it.

"Did it hurt?" he said instead.

"Yeah," Nick said. Joe looked at him. "Not that bad though."

Joe blinked and lifted his thumb, watched the white of his thumbprint fade around the black ink. He kept expecting Nick to roll away from him in the water, to push his hand away, but he just lay there floating, his fingers playing lightly over the water that rippled next to him.

"It's um- Cool," Joe said.

Nick rubbed the heel of his hand absently against his belly just above the elastic of his shorts. He cupped his hand over the tattoo, his fingers brushing Joe's. "I got it in Amsterdam," he said.

"Tell me," Joe said. Nick turned his head a little, the water inching up closer to his eye. Joe could see the water droplets fat on his nose, could see the little bit of paint still caught in Nick's eyebrow.

"It's not a very exciting story," he said. "No waking up after a bender with a mysterious tattoo. No broken love affair or whatever to commemorate."

"I don't care," Joe said. "I just want to know. Everything." Joe shifted in the water until he was lying on his back, floating next to Nick, feeling the tiny waves lapping between them cold against the side of his face. Nick nudged some water over at him, and Joe closed his eyes when the wake broke against his ribs, shifting the clinging skin of his shirt around him. He drifted in the water with his eyes closed, listening to the quiet murmur of Nick's voice. They bobbed and drifted into each other, slick arms bumping, Nick's wet curls brushing lightly against Joe's temple.

*

"I think I pulled something." Joe braced himself on the desk they were moving back to the wall and tried to catch his breath. The heel of Nick's hand came down on Joe's bare lower back, kneading. Joe closed his eyes. Nick did something with his fingers and there was a loud pop from Joe's spine that sounded incredibly alarming, but it loosed a knot of pain so completely Joe flopped bonelessly forward onto the desk, his cheek pressed against the cool, smooth wood.

"Learned that one in Tibet," Nick said. He was doing something amazing with his fingers, something so deep in the muscles it kind of hurt, but the kind of hurt where Joe could feel him unraveling the pain at the source. Joe let out a shuddery breath.

"What did you pull?" Nick asked. "Which muscle?"

"Everything," Joe muttered. "All of them."

Nick slid his hands down the center of Joe's back on either side of spine. Joe felt a little tender from the sun, fever hot and headachey. Not quite sunburned, just kind of overheated. "Even your toes?" Nick said.

Joe nodded, his cheek sticking a little against the desk. He sighed as Nick's hands worked confidently over the ache in his lower back.

"Even your earlobes?" Nick said.

"Especially my earlobes," Joe said.

"Those aren't even muscles," Nick said. "How do you pull them?" He tugged lightly on Joe's right ear.

"Okay, maybe not my earlobes," Joe said. "But everything else."

Nick pressed in closer, his legs tangling with Joe's legs. Joe could feel the heat of him against his back, could feel the weight of him hovering close. He leaned into Joe's back, his hands smoothing, digging deep, catching against muscle, against skin. Joe grunted when his fingers eased deep against the tight, painful bunch of an anguished muscle. He shifted against the desk, his chest sticking a little. He shifted again, his hips just barely moving against the hard edge, just barely. Not enough.

He felt heavy and halfway asleep, lazy loose, when Nick suddenly said, "Oh shit!" And then, "What time is it?" One of his hands came off Joe's back, but the other was still pressing circles into Joe's shoulders. Joe decided whatever it was, it wasn't important as long as Nick kept doing that thing he was doing with his thumb. "Turns out this watch is not quite as waterproof as advertised," Nick said.

Joe felt Nick step backward, an empty rush of space between them, and then his wonderful hands were somewhere that was not Joe's back. And now Joe cared about whatever it was, because it was making Nick stop touching him. Joe whined in the back of his throat, wiggling against the desk, to draw Nick's attention to the fact that half a massage was hardly like a massage at all. He patted himself on the lower back with his hand to help Nick get the idea. He could hear Nick moving around behind him, muttering "shitshitshit" under his breath.

Joe cracked an eye open. "Time is overrated," he said. "Who needs it?" He motioned feebly at his back again. "Aren't you losing sight of what's really important?"

"Sorry," Nick said. "I sort of have a date tonight. And I'm supposed to meet her in-" He grabbed the golden frog clock off the pile of things they were putting on the new shelves. "Twenty minutes ago."

"Grocery store girl again?" Joe was still sprawled on the desk. He'd pretty much given up on Nick and his magic fingers coming back, but he couldn't quite bring himself to move. "Blow her off. I mean, I thought we agreed that you would wait three-"

"Her name is Abbey," Nick said. "And it was just you who agreed to that. And no, actually, not Abbey."

Joe's forehead scrunched up. "So who is she then?"

"I met this girl when I was out jogging this morning," Nick said. "She seemed nice."

Joe squinted. Jesus Christ. At this rate Nick was going to run through every girl in town by a week from Tuesday. "Wait a second," he said. "I thought you said you wanted to settle down."

"I do," Nick said.

Joe stared at him, waited for him to pick on the fact that this made no sense. "Most people do that with one person at a time," he finally pointed out.

"Well, I'm not going to marry both of them," Nick said. "Or either of them necessarily. But there are a lot of people in the world. If I want to find that one right person it's a lot more efficient to look in more than one place at a time." He put the clock on the new shelf and stood back to make sure it was placed exactly right. "Saves time."

Joe laughed. "You're a romantic, Nick Jonas. Don't let anyone tell you different."

Nick clasped the nape of Joe's neck. "Being practical isn't a bad thing."

"I'm not sure that word means what you think it means," Joe muttered. He shoved himself up with an effort, his skin clinging damply to the desk.

"Like you would know practical if you saw it," Nick scoffed as he hurried down the hall. Joe put on speed to catch up with him.

"Look you're already late," Joe said. "Why don't you just call her and reschedule? I'll make us dinner. We can talk. You can finish my massage..." He looked hopefully at Nick.

"That does sound very romantic, Joseph. But I'm going to pass." He curled his hand over Joe's shoulder. "Thanks for the help today though. I really appreciate it." He smiled at Joe, one of the big ones, and then he turned Joe around so he could do one last thing to the base of Joe's spine that felt so good Joe's knees basically stopped existing.

It almost took the defeat out of seeing Nick walk out the door in his good date night shirt, with his hair curling perfectly, smelling of some exotic cologne.

*

Joe was not waiting up for Nick. Just because he happened to be watching infomercials in the middle of the night instead of sleeping did not mean he was waiting for Nick. He was just really interested in this juicer was all. It seemed like a good bargain. And then he was also very interested in the second half of the movie about the chupacabra. And this thing with the televangelist was quality programming. And he was just going to close his eyes for a second during this commercial break, but he was not tired. He was not going to sleep. He was just taking a three minute break, but this was really way too interes-

He dimly felt someone pluck the remote from his hand, and the TV clicked off, sudden silence yanking his eyes open. He looked around blearily, confused. Nick was putting the remote down on the table carefully, trying not to make any noise. Joe narrowed his eyes at Nick's rumpled hair. His shirt hadn't been that wrinkled when he'd left, had it? And it had been tucked in, Joe was pretty sure. Nick reached over to turn off the lamp, and his lips looked really red and- Nibbled on.

"Have a good time?" Joe said as the light flicked off.

He could see Nick jump a little in the dark. "Jesus," he said. "Thought you were asleep."

Joe yawned. "What time is it?"

"Two-thirtyish," Nick said, looking over at the VCR clock. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"S'okay." Joe still felt kind of drowsy and out of it. "Was just resting my eyes."

"And snoring," Nick said.

"That is nothing but a vicious lie," Joe said. "I had no idea you were such a vicious liar, Nick." He propped himself up on the arm of the couch, rubbing the heels of his hands over his eyes. "So you had a good time?"

"It was fine." Nick had a little smile on his face. Joe could see his teeth shining a tiny bit in the dark.

"Fine doesn't keep anyone out past midnight."

"Okay," Nick said. "It was pretty good."

Joe narrowed his eyes. "Does that mean she put out?" Joe was pretty glad the lights were off because he wasn't sure he'd completely managed to match his face to the teasing tone of his voice. His face was always making expressions without telling him first. He had a rogue face.

"It means she made me a nice dinner," Nick said impatiently. Joe frowned. He could totally make a nice dinner if he wanted. He was pretty sure he had many untapped talents as a chef. He'd seen a lot of cooking shows, and he was fairly certain he knew what fondant was.

"Just dinner?" Joe said. "In my experience people only stay out past midnight if they're getting smashed or they're getting laid." He cocked his head. "You don't seem drunk to me."

"Dude." Nick shook his head. "So inappropriate."

"I'm just trying to figure out if I owe you a high five. Sex on the first date. How- Practical." Joe held up his hand, waving it a little in case Nick had missed it in the dark. "Don't leave me hanging."

Nick reached over and grabbed Joe's hand, lacing his fingers through Joe's to give himself a good grip before he tugged Joe off the couch. "It's late, Joe."

Joe's eyes were adjusting slowly, picking out the details of Nick's face in the dark, filling in his silhouette with emotion. He looked like he wasn't going to tell Joe anything Joe wanted to hear. Joe untangled his hand from Nick's. "I'm glad you had a good time."

"I'm a big boy," Nick said quietly. "You don't have to wait up, or worry." He tugged Joe close, knocking their heads together lightly. "You don't have to take care of me anymore."

That- Wasn't exactly it. Joe knew it wasn't because he remembered staying up the night Nick went to prom, just to be sure he got home okay and didn't drunk drive into a tree or something. This didn't feel the same as that. But it seemed- It seemed like a good explanation. Like a much better explanation than any other explanation for why Joe didn't like seeing Nick looking like he'd had hands all over him. For why he wanted to tuck Nick's shirt back in, and make Nick take a shower so the strange scent of someone else wasn't caught up in his hair.

"Big brother mode doesn't come with an off switch," Joe said.

There was no other good explanation.

*

Joe had work the next day, but he didn't have to be in until late. He didn't bother setting the alarm because clearly he was not going to be beating Nick in any early to rise contests. It was well before lunch time though, when he got up, so it wasn't like he was being _lazy_. He found Nick outside mowing the lawn. That seemed unnecessary. Joe was pretty sure there were people you could pay to do that kind of stuff. But whatever, who was he to decide what Nick did with his free time. At least Nick wasn't off proposing to some girl he barely knew. He brought Nick a Diet Coke and told him lunch was in an hour. He hadn't really thought about it before he said it, but he was pretty confident in his latent culinary talents, and Nick had looked hungry. And girls Nick barely knew were not the only people who could make him food.

Looking inside the fridge, Joe had a bit of a crisis of confidence. It was just that the food was all so unassembled. You would think that in this day and age they could print the directions right on the vegetables and stuff just like they did with microwaveable meals. But no. Joe thought for a while about everything he'd learned from Emeril, and he was pretty sure olive oil played into things somehow. But he only had an hour, and it wasn't his fault food was so poorly marked.

He had it all under control though. His favorite Thai place delivered everything steaming hot, and with a good seven minutes to spare before Nick came in with cut grass sticking to his shoes, and his face flushed and sweaty from the heat.

"Thanks for cooking, dear," Nick said sarcastically.

"Oh, how I slaved." Joe served some of the Red Curry onto Nick's plate.

"Over a hot take out menu."

"Hey," Joe said. "This table didn't set itself." He motioned to the fact that he'd even dumped the food onto plates instead of just sticking some chopsticks in the take-out containers. He unfolded the paper towel he'd placed under the silverware beside his own plate and placed it on his lap with a flourish.

Nick snickered and tucked his paper towel into the collar of his shirt. "How civilized."

"Only the best for my Nicky."

Nick nodded around a mouthful of Pad Thai. "S'good."

"Of course it can't compare to whatever they served you in that Thai prison," Joe said.

"It was one of those five star prisons you hear so much about," Nick agreed before turning his concentration to digging in. Joe felt weirdly proud, as if he really had cooked. Well, he'd chosen the restaurant and the dishes. That was almost the same thing. He smiled as Nick helped himself to seconds.

Nick leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. "I think I'm going to change the oil in the Mustang, since I assume you haven't checked it in the last… Ever."

Joe rolled his eyes. "When does that thing where you start chilling out kick in? Cause I think I'm really looking forward to seeing that."

"What are you talking about?" Nick said. "I've been chilling out since I got here."

"Unnecessary running? Home renovations? Chores?" Joe shook his head. "Uh no."

"What?" Nick looked skeptical. "Those are like… Hobbies or life necessities or something."

"It's _work_ ," Joe said. "It's work you don't even get paid for. Which is the exact opposite of fun."

"I think it's fun." 

Joe ignored this blatantly ridiculous statement. "I mean, I'm not surprised. I knew you wouldn't be able to stand being unproductive. You're just constitutionally incapable of relaxing. It's not your fault. It's some kind of disease or genetic anomaly-"

"I can relax," Nick insisted, getting a little heated and stubborn in a way that suddenly made him look younger than he was. He forced himself to sit back in his chair, but his eyebrows were still knit together peevishly. "I'm totally relaxed."

"Right," Joe said skeptically. "If you say so, Mr. Jiffy Lube Express."

"Try me," Nick said. "I can be just as unproductive as you."

Joe swallowed a smile. It was kind of reassuring to know that no matter how broad his shoulders got, or how much of the world he'd seen, Nick was still the same competitive little shit who wouldn't stop until he swung higher on the swings and he climbed higher in the trees and he ran faster to the end of the driveway and back. "You'll get bored," Joe said.

"I won't," Nick said stubbornly.

"Okay," Joe said. "I'll accept you as my student, but there are a couple conditions. First we're not going to do the dishes."

"But then the food crusts on, and it makes it harder to-"

Joe sighed. "See. I told you this would be impossible."

Nick held up his hand in surrender. "Fine. No dishes."

Nick had a hard time when Joe first pulled out the Playstation. He snuck off a couple times, and Joe was pretty sure it was so he could put his laundry in the dryer or Windex the bathroom mirror or something. But eventually he sagged backward into the couch like he'd grown from between the cushions, leaning a little into Joe and nudging him with his elbow to bump his fingers off the controls when it looked like Joe was going to score the game winning touchdown on Madden. This was progress.

Joe tested out some daytime television on him, easing him in with a Daily Show rerun first since he was just an amateur. But eventually he seemed sufficiently softened up, sprawled out on the couch with his feet up on the table, and his arms overlapping Joe's and his head brushing against Joe's shoulder whenever he turned to make a sarcastic comment about something. Joe figured he was ready for the big leagues and hit him with a Lifetime movie. When Nick didn't storm off to go rake the lawn or something, didn't even in fact muster the energy to reach over and steal the remote, Joe considered it a major victory.

They were halfway through a marathon game of pool when Joe realized he was supposed to be going to work pretty soon. Nick knocked another ball into the corner pocket, his eyes narrowed as he walked around to Joe's side of the table. Joe was getting his ass pretty roundly kicked, but he and Nick had spent basically the entire day doing nothing productive. It was maybe the proudest moment of his life.

"What are you smiling about?" Nick said. "You're like five seconds from a perfect losing streak."

Joe poked Nick in the chest with the end of his pool cue. He was still grinning.

Nick swatted the cue away and sunk another ball. "Want to go again after this?" His eyes flicked briefly up from the eight ball.

Joe shrugged. "I have to go to work."

Nick missed the shot, banking clumsily off the side of the table. He looked up, and he looked kind of disappointed actually. Joe felt really full all of a sudden, like too, too full. So full it kind of felt like it had to come out or he would die. He reached over impulsively and wrapped his arms as tight as he could around Nick, burying his nose in the crook of Nick's neck and closing his eyes. Nick squirmed, laughing softly, before falling still. "Joe?" His hand came up to pat at Joe's arm where it crossed over his chest. "Can you let me breathe please?" Joe shook his head no, his nose smushing harder against Nick's neck. Nick laughed a little more, the jerky bubbles of it shaking against Joe's chest. Joe squeezed one more time before he let go.

Nick looked at him, his eyebrows raised in amusement.

"I'm glad you're home," Joe said with a slightly sheepish shrug.

Nick grinned, crooking his elbow over Joe's neck, and thumping him lightly on the chest. "Me too," he said. "I had a good time with you today."

Joe was never prouder in his life.

*

Joe was leaning on the bar, flirting a little with a pretty young thing who was trying to make her boyfriend jealous. Just a little. Not too much because her boyfriend looked like he'd been kicked off a defensive line somewhere for being too big, and Joe didn't really want to test out the guy's fists with his face. But she wasn't too drunk to be kind of clever, and every time she leaned over she gave him a nice long look straight down her cleavage to the front clasp of her bra, and she was just trying to get some attention. Joe didn't see any reason why he shouldn't give her some. Joe was always happy to help a worthy cause. As long as it wasn't going to get him punched. He refilled her beer from the tap, and let her reach over the bar to stroke her little hand over his forearm and tell him how buff he was.

Hey, it was for a worthy cause.

Joe winced when he felt a tap on his shoulder, bracing himself for the boyfriend, hoping his face would still have all its parts tomorrow. He was pretty attached to his nose. He turned warily to see Nick leaning against the bar, propped up on one elbow. All the tension went out of Joe's shoulders as Nick flicked his eyebrows up and smiled. "Who do you have to know to get some scotch around here?"

Joe grinned at him, reached over to tug at the collar of Nick's t-shirt. Joe's t-shirt, actually, sitting a little too tight across the shoulders. He tugged again, rougher. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to see my big brother in action." Nick drew an arrow that pointed at Joe in the water rings on the bar.

"Got bored?" Joe said knowingly.

"Not at all." Nick swept away the water with the flat of his hand. He rubbed his wet hand absently against his hip. "I'm perfectly happy just relaxing. Hanging out. You know, chilling."

Joe smirked. "You got bored."

"I got _so_ bored," Nick admitted.

Joe laughed. "One day, grasshopper," he said. "You will learn that there is no such thing as boredom, there is only a nap waiting to happen."

"Who was the girl?" Nick said, leaning across the bar so Joe could hear his lowered voice over the music. Joe could feel his breath gust light against Joe's throat.

"What girl?" Joe said blankly.

"The girl you were hitting on," Nick said. "Like two seconds ago?"

"Oh, her." Joe looked around until he saw her boyfriend had scooped her off to dance. He was looming protectively all over her, and she seemed pretty happy about it. "I was just helping her out. Like a favor."

Nick blinked. "Did you just say you were doing her a favor by hitting on her?"

"Yeah." Nick laughed at him, and Joe corrected himself. "But I meant- Oh whatever, it was for a good cause."

"The get Joe laid cause?" Nick said. "Cause that's a cause I can believe in."

"You may be surprised to know," Joe said. "It _is_ actually possible to meet women and not sleep with them."

Nick snorted.

"I mean, you can even talk to women, and just talk. Like with words and nothing else."

"Dude," Nick said. "You were not just talking. I've seen talking, and that's not how it works."

"So I was enjoying the view," Joe said. "That's also something you can do without inviting a woman home or taking her to dinner. It _is_ possible."

"What's wrong with taking her to dinner?" Nick said. "You could stand to take a few women to dinner."

"Are you questioning my prowess with the ladies?" Joe frowned. "Because me and the ladies get along awesome." He raised his eyebrows. "Maybe you're just confused because I'm not trying to collect them _all_. See traditionally, what people do is they break up with one person before they start-"

Nick tapped his fingers against the bar impatiently. "Not that I don't appreciate your advice, intrusive and out of line as it may be, but what I would really like you to give me is alcohol."

Joe poured him a couple fingers of scotch and slid the glass over the counter. "I'm just saying you could try _not_ dating a woman once or twice."

"Do people usually pay you extra to tell them what to do?" Nick said. "Because let me inform you, your tip is plummeting with every single word."

"You think I'm going to charge you for your drinks?" Joe said. "Please. This is on the house. And yes, people love hearing my advice. That's the whole thing with bartending-"

"Dude-" A guy on the other end of the bar said.

"-People like having conversations with me. If people didn't want to talk to bartenders they would drink at home alone."

"I'm not sure that’s-" Nick started.

"Hey! Excuse me-" The guy at the end of the bar was talking really loudly.

"I mean, I'm here for the customers." Joe swiped at the counter with a rag, soaking up the wet rings. "That's my duty. To listen to their problems, and to help them out. Not just with delicious booze, but with-"

"Are you deaf?" The guy at the other end of the bar was no longer at the other end of the bar.

"I'm sorry," Joe said. "Is the world just going to end if you have to wait thirty seconds for a refill on your white wine spritzer?"

"He's here for the customers," Nick said, smiling.

Joe rolled his eyes.

"Right," Joe said. "I live to serve." He realized there was actually a bit of a rush forming, and probably he should get to pouring some drinks. It wasn't really a fun conversation anyway. He took care of the guy's white wine spritzer, and mixed a couple dry martinis for a couple of guys who clearly wished they were James Bond, and three cosmos for three women who clearly wished they were about 10 years younger.

When he finally had a chance to glance up, to find Nick over at a table in the corner, he had a girl sitting with him. Two actually. Joe slopped a little gin onto the bar, and gritted his teeth. The blond one was touching his arm, leaning close to talk right into his ear. Laughing. Touching his _thigh_. He sent one of the waitresses over to their table to check on them, and if he happened to send Sarah, the clumsiest waitress in the bar, and if he happened to load her down with drinks first it wasn't that he was hoping she would bobble the tray and soak one or both of the girls in vermouth and mint leaves and a couple pitchers of beer. That was just an unfortunate accident. There was no way he could have forseen it.

"If I wring these pants out, I think I could have about three free drinks," Nick said on his way to the bathroom.

"Maybe you should go home," Joe called after him. "Where it's dry." Where there were no more girls to add to the harem.

He didn't go home though. And Joe screwed up more drinks in an hour than he'd screwed up in the last three weeks because he couldn't concentrate when every time he looked over Nick was talking to another new girl. Girls who giggled at him, and tossed their hair. Girls who pressed their lips to his neck. Girls who tucked numbers right into his pants pockets. Girls who practically slid into his lap. And he was smiling at them, and taking their numbers, and leaning close to whisper things in their stupid girl ears.

"Fuck," Joe said when he realized he'd overflowed the shot glass and tequila was bleeding out onto the bar. He poured the customer a new shot, and then took the overfull one himself, a little of the liquor sloshing out onto his fingers. He didn't usually drink on the job. It was just- Well, unprofessional. But he needed something to ease the tight, anxious knot in his chest.

He kept expecting Nick to come over to the bar with his arm over some new girl's shoulders, to say good night before he left with some new girl and her new girl tits and her new girl smile. He kept trying not to keep looking, to keep tensing up every time Nick came over to the bar to buy some new girl a drink. God, this was the longest night ever. Had the clock stopped, or did he seriously have another two hours before he could close the place down?

Nick was still there when Joe announced it was last call. He was still there when the last stragglers straggled their way out the door. He was still there even after the waitresses had left Joe to finish closing. He boosted himself up on the bar, watching Joe clean up, his legs swinging over the edge, heels bumping.

"You're still here," Joe said neutrally.

"Where else would I be?"

"It just didn't look like you'd need to go home alone."

Nick laughed. He laughed a lot, like more than made sense, with his head hanging kind of heavy and loose on his neck, tipping forward and then back. "M'Not going home alone," he said. He swayed forward, his fingers outstretched to poke Joe roughly on the shoulder. "We're going home together." He stayed sort of tipped forward, off balance, and Joe could tell now that he was not just a little bit drunk. Probably Joe should have cut him off at some point before he got all the way to trashed. He slid forward off the bar, slow, sagging into Joe's arms. Joe held him up until he could get his feet under him. He was heavy, and he smelled like alcohol, and his chin scraped stubbly against Joe's neck. Joe tightened his grip and hefted him into an upright position.

"Your hair is really soft," Nick said. It was weird how his voice didn't slur that much, even when his eyes were glassy like that, and he wavered on his feet, his hand petting heavy, clumsy against Joe's head.

"Yeah, okay." Joe tipped him backward against the bar so he'd have something to lean on. He tried to step away, but Nick had his fists clenched in Joe's hair. Joe reached up to pry them loose. "Dude, let go."

"Don't want to," Nick said. "I like it."

Joe laughed, tugging at Nick's fingers and Jesus, he had a tight grip. Nick finally untangled his fingers from Joe's hair, and Joe cursed at the sharp sting of a few strands of his hair yanking free. He rubbed at the spot of pain, wincing. Nick had his hands on Joe's arms now, his fingers biting into Joe's biceps, and he pulled Joe forward with a jerk.

"Hey!" Joe tried to say, but his mouth was kind of full of Nick's collarbone, and Nick was- Nick was nuzzling against the side of Joe's head, his cheek pressed tight to Joe's hair. Joe thought about how he wasn't actually Nick's teddy bear and maybe it was a bit demeaning for Nick to be treating him like he was and maybe he should go ahead and force Nick off of him. But he just stood there instead, and let Nick crush him into Nick's chest, and let Nick breathe hot into his hair until Joe's dick was pressing painful and swollen against his too tight jeans. He started to shiver a little with the effort of not moving, of not pressing himself into Nick, of not rubbing against his leg, his hip, anything, just pressing and pressing into him. He could taste Nick's skin, and his shirt on Nick's skin, and Nick's skin, and he wanted- He wanted- He bit down suddenly on Nick's collarbone, hard. Hard enough that Nick cursed and pushed him away.

Joe stared at him, breathing hard through his nose, and trying not to- Not to want so much. Nick blinked at him, slow and kind of confused, his eyebrows drawn down, his fingers touching the tooth marks Joe had left on his skin.

"Ow," he said.

"You were smothering me."

Nick blinked vaguely. "I'm pretty drunk," Nick said, each word dragging a little out of his mouth.

"Really?" Joe said. "I had no idea."

Nick lifted his foot and then put it back down carefully like he wasn't sure where the ground was. His face softened, turned sheepish. "Sorry."

"It's- Okay. Drunk people are my life." Joe laughed, and it came out wheezy, almost silent. "I- Uh. I'm just going to finish counting the register." Joe poured him a huge glass of water. "Drink that," he said.

Nick made a face, but he started obediently in on it while Joe went to snag him a cup of coffee from the break room. When he got back, Nick had climbed back on the bar. He sat with his legs tucked up Indian style, and counted out loud along with Joe while he got the deposit ready. Except Nick couldn't keep track of the numbers that well and sometimes he forgot what he was doing and started to sing little nonsense melodies that were incredibly distracting. It took Joe five times as long as normal to get through the whole count, but Joe couldn't quite bring himself to tell Nick to stop.

He liked the lazy droop of Nick's eyelids, and he liked the way Nick was smiling so easily, and he liked the way his voice sounded actually pretty decent for drunk nonsense songs. He liked that Nick was such an incredibly goofy drunk. Joe kind of dug Nick without his dignity. He wasn't without it often, and Joe sort of didn't want to remind him that he'd lost it.

*

Getting drunk Nick into bed was kind of a pain in the ass. He was basically no help at all, and Joe practically had to carry him, and he was heavy as hell.

Joe dumped Nick onto the mattress, and Nick was not quite passed out since he mumbled something about the Gravitron and covered his eyes with his hand. But he was pretty close. Too close to like, undress himself or brush his teeth or whatever. Joe yanked off his shoes, and his socks. Nick flexed his toes, and mumbled something else, trying vaguely to sit up and pulling clumsily at his zipper before flopping backward in defeat. Joe hesitated, but it was- It wasn't- It was just helping his drunk brother. It would be weird not to. He efficiently stripped Nick's pants off, tugging them down his thick thighs and tossing them aside. Nick rolled over onto his stomach, shifting a little, his hips snuggling into the mattress, his eyes closed. He had his head turned toward Joe and his lashes were dark against his cheek. His lips were parted, pink and plump, and Joe could see his crooked teeth behind them. His cheeks were flushed. He breathed slow like he'd already fallen asleep. Joe leaned over and touched his head lightly, his curls springy, a little sweaty when Joe sunk his fingers in all the way to his scalp.

"Might throw up," Nick said, half into the mattress.

"That's okay." Joe pet the back of Nick's neck with his fingers. "They're your sheets."

Nick's breathing had already gone slow and sleep heavy again. Joe went to the bathroom and got the trashcan. Put it by Nick's side of the bed just in case. He stood there for a second, looking at Nick. Then he went back to the bathroom and got a few aspirin and a glass of water. Put that on Nick's bedside table for when he needed it tomorrow. He stared at Nick for a long time, boneless and sleepy flushed and sprawled so loose.

Joe toed off his shoes, tugged off his own pants, lay down on the bed next to him. It was a strange sort of déjà vu, familiar but in a distant half remembered way. When they were kids, nightmares had chased Nick, small and scared, into Joe's bed. When they were older, and Nick got that TV in his room for his birthday, Joe had spent most nights watching movies with him until they both fell asleep sprawled out on spilled Twizzlers with the light from the television flickering over them. Even in high school, it hadn't seemed like he was too old to share Nick's pillow, to tell him about the parties Nick had missed because he'd been too busy with his computers, to fall asleep to the sound of Nick's voice talking about java or whatever in what sounded like a foreign language, to wake up with Nick snoring softly into his back. That had been a long time ago though. Before Nick had left to see the world. Joe's fingers twisted in the hair at the nape of Nick's neck. Nick didn't move. Joe turned out the light and rolled over so his arm crossed over Nick's back, so he was pressed against Nick's warm side. He buried his face in Nick's shoulder, and just listened to Nick breathe slow and sleep heavy against his hair.

*

Joe came awake bit by bit. His ears were first as ringing telephone sounds filtered into the dream he was having about giant frog parades doing the musical numbers from Oklahoma down Main Street. By the time he was awake enough to realize it had been an actual phone and not some kind of frog mating call, it had stopped ringing. He was really warm, sweaty hot all down his side, and there was skin sticking to his leg, to his belly where his shirt had ridden up. His arm was dead asleep. He rolled his head over on his pillow and squinted his eyes open. He could see Nick's curls. Nick's head was heavy on his chest, and one of his legs was sprawled over Joe's knee, and his arm was flung out around Joe's middle. Joe's arm was trapped underneath Nick, the heavy weight of his hip tilted into Joe's wrist. Joe flexed his hand, wincing at the painful tingle. He touched the soft tangle of Nick's curls gently, keeping an eye on Nick's closed eyes, listening for the regular rhythm of his breathing. He lifted up enough to wriggle his arm out. Nick's hand closed loosely around his ribs as he slid, slumping further down on Joe's chest. Joe opened and closed his hand once it was free, forcing it awake. He took a deep breath and looked down at the morning wood tenting his boxers.

Joe stared at Nick's face, distorted by the closeness of being tucked under Joe's chin. Nick's mouth was slack, heavy breaths gusting against Joe's fingers when Joe reached out, his fingertips hovering over Nick's lips. Not touching. Joe's hips jerked, jostling Nick against his chest.

"Ugh," Nick groaned, his face twisting with pain. "Bright," he mumbled, his eyes shut tight. "Hurts." He snuggled his face into Joe's shoulder, his hand hot against Joe's ribs. He screwed his eyes open just a crack, and looked down at Joe's body, looked up at his face, moving his head gingerly like it was breakable. Joe flushed hot. There was no way he could have missed noticing Joe's hard-on. But all he said was, "Hello, pillow." He forced himself up on his elbow, untangling himself from Joe slowly.

"There's aspirin by your alarm clock," Joe said. Nick rolled over, away. He was hard too. Joe could see the thick length of him jutting against his boxers. Joe felt himself shock with heat, a deep sharp stab low, low down. Joe looked at the lean stretch of Nick's back when he reached over to pat blindly at the table until he found the pills. Joe could reach over and touch him. He could curl himself over Nick's back, wrap his hands around Nick's shoulders, and just- Just- No. It was just the morning. It wasn't anything.

"You are the best thing that has ever happened," Nick said. "You are my favorite." It was kind of lame how something so small could made Joe feel like his insides had swollen up too tight to breathe. Nick chewed the pills up dry before realizing there was water and gulping down half the glass. "I'm never drinking again."

"Yeah, that was pretty irresponsible of you," Joe said. "I was quite shocked and appalled personally. I really expect more of-"

"Shhhh." Nick reached over and two of his fingers smacked into Joe's mouth. "Don't talk until the pills kick in. Just- Let's just lie here for a second."

That, Joe could do.

*

Joe liked living with Nick. It was kind of a shock to realize how much. It wasn't that he didn't love his brother, that he hadn't always loved his brother, but when Nick had come home in the past, for a couple weeks, a month at a time it had always felt like Joe had become a visitor in his own home. Suddenly he had to be careful where he put things, and he had to make sure not to turn the volume up too loud on his video games, and he had to try to remember not to leave his towels on the bathroom floor. He had to tiptoe around his own home like he didn't belong there. He'd figured this would be the same, and he'd been willing to put up with it because it was worth it not to have to move out. It wasn't like he'd forgotten Nick owned the house and all. Fair was fair. But he'd assumed it would be a sacrifice.

Living with Nick was different though. Nick just made things better. Little things really. Craig Ferguson was funnier now that he could glance over and see Nick grinning, see Nick rock back into the sofa cushions with a laugh. The nights Nick was out late, or Joe had it on the TV at work, it wasn't as good. He went swimming more now that Nick was there to watch him do a cannonball off the diving board. He looked forward to coming home from work, and not just because it meant he didn't have to be at work anymore. It was a lot of little things, but when you added them all up together they were kind of everything.

Joe liked that Nick asked him which tie was better before he went on a date. He liked that Nick made sure to get his favorite Mint Milanos whenever he went shopping without even asking if Joe wanted them. He liked that whenever Nick got drunk, Joe was the one who helped him into bed. And he liked waking up with Nick, cranky, headachy, sweaty warm the next morning. He liked that sometimes Nick's clothes got mixed up with his, and they used the same brand of toothpaste, and sometimes they ran into each other in the kitchen in the middle of the night when Joe was snack hunting.

Joe had always preferred not having anyone to be responsible to. He'd never wanted people to count on him, to expect anything of him. Who needed that kind of pressure? But Nick- If Nick wanted him to wash the dishes or do the laundry or vacuum the living room, he'd do it. Even if Nick didn't ask. It was the best feeling when Nick stopped being surprised every time he pulled out his awesome purple rubber dish-doing gloves, or put on his laundry hat (which was really just a shower cap that Joe had drawn soap bubbles on). When Nick started to count on him, it didn't feel like being blocked in, like something heavy and hard to shoulder. He liked the way Nick smiled at him, like he was proud, like they were equals.

The only thing that sucked about living with Nick was the girls. They were just so- Everywhere. And there were so, so many of them. Joe ran into the one with the short black pixie cut in the kitchen. She was wearing one of Nick's shirts, and her eye makeup was smudged. She gave Joe a sheepish wave, and made him scrambled eggs. He kind of liked her a little. But then there was the bitchy blond one who'd been lying topless out by the pool, and she'd made him get her an iced tea like he was her waiter or something. And then there was the other blond one that he was pretty sure he'd seen Nick fucking in the hot tub. Either that or he'd been giving her the Heimlich. Joe hadn't stuck around to be sure. There were a couple brunette ones. He'd bumped into one of them when he was trying to get to the shower, and he'd almost sat on the other before he realized that lump on the couch wasn't a blanket. It was like the house was infested or something. Like they had termites, only all the termites were hot girls who were fucking his brother.

Not that he cared if they were all fucking Nick. It was just kind of inconvenient was all. To be tripping over strange girls left and right.

The last straw was the one with the long black hair and the perfect tits. He knew they were perfect because he'd seen them. It wasn't like he meant to. He was just going to the kitchen to find something to eat. He hadn't known she and Nick would be on the couch in front of the TV. He hadn't known she'd be on top of Nick with her tits all heavy and round, with the moonlight making her skin glow. It was not his fault if they wanted to fuck right in the middle of the house where anyone could accidentally walk in on them.

It was his fault he didn't leave.

He meant to, he really did. He was going to turn right around and go back to his room, and maybe think about her tits with his dick in his hand. But the moonlight was shafting over Nick's face, bright, bright over the open twist of his lips, the pained furrow of his brow. He could see Nick's hands in shadow, dark against her pale skin, gripping her hips while she moved on top of him. Joe could see Nick thrusting up into her slow, hard, driving into her so deep. Fucking- Joe pressed down on his hard cock with the heel of his hand, rubbing over the outside of his boxers like if he didn't actually pull out his dick then he wasn't- He wasn't beating off to his brother fucking some girl right there in front of him. Her head was thrown back, and she clutched helplessly at Nick's shoulders, at his chest. He could see her tits jiggling, see her mouth dark and open. She made little gaspy, panting noises, little hiccups of sound. He could see Nick's hand move between them, see her back arch, her whole body jerking before she slumped, falling forward onto Nick's chest.

Nick held onto her tight and rolled her back so he covered her up with his whole body. Joe stared at his arms braced around her. He stared at Nick's back, broad and strong and silvered with moonlight. He stared at Nick's ass, flexing while he was driving into her so deep. Faster. Faster. So deep. Joe hadn't meant to get his cock out, but it was there in his hand, sliding to the hard, fast rhythm Nick was setting, matching his pace. Nick made this grunting sound, and then he was saying something. Joe couldn't hear it, but it sounded soft and brutal next to the wet slap of skin, of Nick moving inside her. Joe bit his lip, bit down until he tasted blood, forced himself quiet, silent against the moan that tried to work its way out when he striped his fist with come.

*

Joe could barely look at Nick the next day. Every time he tried, his cheeks heated, and his guts ached with guilt, with something deeper and more jagged than guilt. He kept seeing Nick's back with sharp squares of moonlight on his shoulder blades, he kept seeing Nick's face twisted up tight with need, he kept thinking about how Nick had moved when he was moving inside her. Joe tongued at the sore, raw place on the inside of his lip, at the pain there, and he knew he hadn't been thinking about that girl's perfect tits when his dick had been fever hot in his hand.

"What's your problem?" Nick said, kicking Joe's foot with his bare toes. Joe jerked, banging his knee on the underside of the table so hard it rattled both their breakfasts like an earthquake. "Whoa," Nick said, grabbing his glass off the table before his OJ could spill out. "That sounded painful."

Joe clutched at his knee, fighting a pretty unmanly whimper. "It's fine," he said. "Now I'm awake. Better than coffee."

Nick looked at him doubtfully and passed over the comics. Joe stared at them blankly, trying to read the tiny little newsprint words. They were way too tiny on the page, and Nick naked, naked, naked was way too big behind his eyes.

"Seriously," Nick said, tapping the page to get Joe's attention. "You're not laughing at Garfield? You always laugh at Garfield, even when it's not remotely funny."

"Huh?" Joe said. Nick reached over and touched the back of his hand to Joe's forehead. Joe jerked back. Nick frowned at him, looking surprised.

"What's _with_ you?"

"I'm- Not hungry." Joe pushed away from the table, tripping over himself a little in his rush. He headed outside and flopped down on his back in the grass, closed his eyes into the sun, trying not to see anything but the vague echo of brightness pressing against his eyelids.

Nick nudged him in the side with his toes, digging into his ribs. Joe squinted up at him, blurring him out with half-closed eyelashes. "Seriously," Nick said. "I know something's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," Joe mumbled.

"Something is," Nick said. "And I want to- I can't fix it, if you don't tell me."

"I don't need you to fix anything." Joe turned over onto his stomach, his chin propped on his hands, and watched his breath bend the blades of grass in front of him. Nick flexed his toes into Joe's side again, insistent. Joe didn't look at him.

"Come on," Nick said. "Why can't you tell me?"

"It's not anything," Joe said. "Can't I just for one day not think Garfield is funny?"

Nick poked at Joe's side again. "Tell me."

"No."

"Tell me."

" _No._ "

Joe huffed out a sharp _ooof_ of air when Nick sat heavy on his back. Joe pushed himself up, but Nick pressed on his back with his knee, forced him back down. "Nick," he said, annoyed. "Quit it."

"I won't let you up until you tell me," Nick said stubbornly. "Just tell me what's going on."

"Nothing's going on," Joe said. "Except that you're pissing me off." He pushed himself up again, violently, forcing Nick up and almost tumbling him backward into the grass. But Nick grabbed a rough handful of his shoulder, his neck, caught a little of his hair and pushed, digging in with his knee. He had one foot braced in the grass, and he used the leverage to push until Joe's arms lowered a little. Nick shoved off the ground hard with his foot, forward momentum collapsing Joe's arms, and Joe crashed into the ground, Nick huge heavy on top of him.

And then Nick was straddling him, knees blocking him in around his hips. He leaned forward over Joe, plastering himself to Joe's back, his arms coming roughly around Joe's chest, so tight, squeezing Joe's arms immobile against his sides. Joe thrashed against his grip, against his legs, against his arms, against his hands clamped down on Joe's shirt, his skin. Joe's face was pressed into the grass, thick dirt smell in his nostrils, and the smell of Nick behind it just as thick, his lips beside Joe's ear saying, "Shhhhh. Shhhhh." Joe took a hard breath, hot with a slow boiling anger that was threaded through with unsteady ribbons of shame, with sharp pulsing sparks of want. He made a frustrated gaspy, jerky sound. His fists tightened in the grass, tearing handfuls.

Nick was still breathing "Shhhhh" into Joe's ear. Joe rocked against the ground, helpless needy jerks, rough and a little painful, and he was so pissed off he wanted to punch Nick in the face. And he was so covered up in Nick's weight, in his skin, so trapped under Nick that he wished Nick was heavy enough to press him straight through the ground, press him flat until all that was left of him was Nick. He could feel Nick's cock against the small of his back, could feel it fat, pressed between their bodies. He kept thinking about that girl, about how deep inside her Nick had been, and he wanted- He wanted-

He made a choked off sound through clenched teeth, and growled, "Get the fuck off."

"No," Nick said softly, right into Joe's ear.

Joe trembled all down the length of his back where Nick was so solid hot against him. He stared at the bright shafts of grass that poked up around his face, blurry close, and this didn't feel like playing. It felt mean, not fair to hold him under when he was drowning. This was- These feelings were too big, too much, so much Joe could feel himself breaking under it, choking on it. Joe had to hold on to the part that was anger, because all the rest was just too much. And he was angry when he said, "There was some stranger's underwear out by the pool last week." He craned his neck painfully to look back at Nick, his jaw jutting. "And I'm pretty sure someone used my toothbrush this morning."

Nick eased off, the tight squeeze of his arms loosening. "Is that- That's what this was about?" He braced himself on his hands, still caging Joe in with his body. "You- What exactly?" he said cautiously. "You have a problem with me dating?"

Joe pulled himself forward, away from Nick, dragging himself out from under all that heat, that weight, that press of too much. "I don't care if you date," Joe said. "But I live here too, you know?"

"So, my personal life is an inconvenience to you?" Nick said, a stiff coldness coming into his voice. "I'm not supposed to bring a girl I'm dating home, to my house, that I own, that I let you live in-"

"Oh, you _let me_?" Joe said. "It's charity?"

"Well, it's sure as hell not like you're paying rent." Nick sat back on his heels, his eyes narrowed.

Joe shook his head dumbly, so angry he could barely even hear himself past the rush of it. "I'll pay you fucking rent," he said. "If that's what you want, all you had to do was ask."

"That's not-" Nick said.

Joe raised his eyebrows, meeting Nick's eyes until Nick blinked like a flinch. "I know this is your house, Nick. I know I'm just your _guest_. I understand my place here, okay?"

Nick lifted a hand and dropped it back down to the ground helplessly. "That's not what I meant. I just-" He cocked his head, not looking at Joe, watching his fingers brush over the grass. "I told you when I got here, what I was looking for. Why I came home. And you're acting like you're surprised-"

"Oh, come on," Joe said. "What you're doing isn't settling down. It's barely even dating. It's just- You're just sleeping around. And that's fine, if that's want you want to do. But don't kid yourself that you're on some noble quest here."

"That's funny," Nick said bitterly, his voice going hard again. "You criticizing my relationships, when I don't think you've been on one date since I've been home." He shrugged. "At least I'm trying to have a life."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Joe said. "I have a life. And I date. I’ve dated a lot. Maybe not as much as you, but then who has, since you're apparently going to sleep with every single girl in the-"

"Joe," Nick interrupted. "You don't have a girlfriend. You work just enough to get by, in a job that's going nowhere. You spend your days off doing nothing. And it's been years. _Years_. You're exactly where you were when I first left." He shook his head. "You're not even _trying_." He didn't even sound pissed off when he said it, like it was something Joe could write off to them fighting, like it was something he didn't mean. He said it like it made him sad, and that made it fifteen times worse.

Joe blinked, feeling it like a slap. "You're such a dick sometimes," he said, but his voice cracked.

Nick chewed on his bottom lip, and for a second Joe thought Nick was going to _cry_ and Nick just- Didn't _do_ that. Hadn't done that since he was like fifteen and he got his heart broken the first time by some girl in biology class. Lacey something. Joe stared, and Nick blinked and it was gone, whatever it was, it was gone. His voice was steady when he said, "This is exactly why I thought it would be better for you to have your own place. I don't want to make your life miserable. I don't want us fighting about stupid shit, and- Maybe it would just be better if you-"

"No!" Joe felt a sharp stab of panic. Not because he could lose the pool or the hot tub or the flat screen, not even because public transportation was the very lowest form of transportation, but because of that sick, scary, stomach dropping out feeling of Nick slipping away from him. Because he could lose Nick. "I'm just- I was in a bad mood. And you can bring home whoever you want. It's your house. And it's your life. And it's none of my business. And I'm good!" He was babbling, and he knew it. He sounded desperate and pathetic, and he knew that too. But he just couldn't, he _couldn't_ move out. He couldn't be somewhere Nick wasn't, not _all the time_. "I'm fine with any girls. All girls everywhere. They can _have_ my toothbrush. I'll get a new one. And I'll pay rent if you- That's fine with me. I can-"

"Joe!" Nick said. Joe could barely look at him, hated, hated the look on his face. It was weird how the part of it that was pity made him seem so old, how the part of it that was something else, something uncertain and sad made him seem like he was just a kid. "I just– I don't want you to be unhappy. And it seems like-"

"I'm not though!" Joe said. "It's good. All good. We've been getting along so well, right? Before? And if I'm doing anything that's- That's bugging you, I'll change. I can do whatever you-"

"You're not," Nick interrupted. "Bugging me. I just- Thought maybe you needed your own space."

"I don't need anything," Joe said. "Please don't- Please don't make me-" Nick reached over and touched him on the shoulder. Joe stopped, his mouth still half open. He shut it with a snap.

Nick curled his fingers around Joe's shoulder tight, squeezed once, and let go. "Of course you can stay here as long as you want."

Joe nodded, relieved, the tight winding panic spilling loose from his hands as they unclenched. He couldn't quite bring himself to smile though, not when he could still feel a careful distance between them, not when they were still circling each other like the wounds they'd cut were too deep to test.

*

Joe missed Nick. It was sort of strange, considering he still saw Nick pretty much every day. But the tension hadn't gone away. What had been simple, a kind of natural overlapping, the two of them easy in each other's spaces wasn't simple or easy anymore. Joe felt like he had to tread carefully. It was pretty clear to him that he was being _tolerated_. If he had more pride he would have just gone instead of sticking around where he wasn't wanted. But the thought of packing up his stuff, of being removed, erased from Nick's place. Of not being close enough to keep up with Nick. It was unacceptable. Nick was the kind of person who never stopped moving. If Joe let him get too far away, he'd never catch up.

He didn't have more pride, was what it boiled down to.

But he did have enough to start paying rent. He'd never really felt guilty for not paying rent before. He didn't feel exactly guilty now. He just didn't like that it was one more thing Nick could throw in his face. One more way he wasn't grown up enough, wasn't good enough to be someone Nick could respect. He’d figured Nick would be ecstatic, but Nick just looked at the check, turned it over in his hands. He actually looked kind of miserable.

"Joe, I didn't mean it. You don’t have to-"

"I want to," Joe said.

"But I don't need your money."

Joe clenched his teeth. "Yeah," he said. "I know you don't need it. I know you don't need anything from me."

"I didn’t mean it like that-" Nick started, defensive. "I just-"

"I live here," Joe said. "I should pay rent. It's what responsible people do, right? Productive members of society?" He lifted a sarcastic eyebrow.

Nick just looked more miserable. "I want you here though." He looked up from the check he was folding neatly into smaller and smaller squares. "I'm not your- Your landlord."

"Just- Take the money."

"Fine," Nick said.

Joe didn't get it. He'd really thought that was the kind of thing a good roommate did, the kind of thing Nick would want him to do. There was no pleasing some people.

*

Joe plodded into the kitchen, rubbing absently at his bed hair. Nick was sectioning out a grapefruit. He looked up when Joe bumped into the sharp edge of the counter. Joe rubbed at his hip. God, he hated mornings.

"Hey," Nick said. He sounded surprised. "You're up early."

"Yeah," Joe said. "You're up at your normal ungodly hour."

"I thought- You don’t work today, do you?"

"I have this thing." Joe sniffed at the milk jug experimentally.

"What kind of thing?"

"Like an interview thing."

Nick stopped sawing at his fruit. "What kind of interview?"

"I don’t know," Joe said impatiently. "Like an audition or whatever."

Nick took the jug out of his hand and put it on the counter. He touched Joe lightly on the shoulder. "Joe," he said. "Can I get more than one word at a time, please?"

Joe edged away from Nick’s hand to grab a bowl out of the cabinet. "It’s just for this open mic thing. I’ve been doing a few of them on my days off. Like comedy clubs and stuff. It’s kind of not _that_ open. Like you can’t just walk up, you have to go in beforehand and they-"

"Dude!" Nick practically shouted. He grabbed Joe by the shoulders and shook him once, sort of halfway yanking Joe into a hug before he seemed to catch himself. He stopped, and Joe swayed uncertainly before taking a step back. "That’s amazing!" Nick said. He was grinning a huge, huge grin. You’d think Joe had just won the lottery was how huge that grin was.

Joe shrugged, sheepish. That grin was- He felt kind of embarrassed, but also kind of like his skin was two sizes too small. "It's just a cheesy open mic thing. It’s no big deal."

"Are you kidding? It’s huge! I'm so-" Nick took a step toward Joe, and then took a step back. He looked down at his grapefruit and shook his head. "It’s amazing."

"Thanks." Joe dunked some of the marshmallow bits in his cereal under the milk with his spoon. He smiled a little.

"I would love to see you- Sometime, if you…" Nick trailed off into a shrug.

"Yeah." Joe chewed a little on his bottom lip and lifted up his bowl to head back to his room. He watched the milk level warily to make sure he didn’t spill anything. He didn’t look at Nick. "Maybe," he said, but he meant probably not.

*

Nick had apparently decided to drink _all_ the drinks. Every single one that existed. Those were the ones he had drunk. He hadn’t been hanging out at the bar much lately, but he’d been there all night tonight and now he was shit-faced with a capital S-H-I-T. He leaned droopily into Joe as Joe finished locking up, his arm heavy around Joe’s shoulder, and his face snuggled in against Joe’s neck, and how many legs did he even _have_ because it definitely seemed like more than two.

Joe had been so good. He had been trying so hard. He didn’t get in Nick’s way. He didn’t bug Nick with his shit. He didn’t object to Nick’s women. He didn’t even _think_ about Nick’s women. Even if it did seem like there were less of them lately. Something he also didn’t think about because it was none of his business. And because he’d almost thrown something (all Nick’s clothes) in the pool, the first time he’d realized that if the harem was gone then whichever girls were left were the ones Nick was actually _serious_ about. Joe didn’t think about that at all.

And he didn’t touch Nick. Hardly ever. Not even if sometimes he felt like he was starving just to- Just for a _hug_.

And now? Now Nick was nuzzling into his shoulder while he drove. And Joe was trying very hard not to hit anything with the car when he could feel Nick’s smile on his skin, when he could feel the soft heaving of Nick’s chest with every breath he took, when Nick wrapped one of his arms around Joe’s waist and held on. Joe could barely even reach the parking brake when they got home because there was so much _Nick_ all over him.

Joe tugged Nick out of the car, and Nick sprawled wide over his shoulder, over his back. At least he had his feet under him, not stumbling much as they made their way up the porch stairs. Nick touched Joe’s hair while Joe fished out his keys. He carded his fingers through the curls that had sprung up with Joe’s sweat. He pressed his nose flat against Joe’s cheekbone, laughing a little. His tongue flicked out suddenly against the corner of Joe’s eyebrow, and Joe jerked away.

"Stop that," he said, snapped, like Nick was a bad dog. Nick was still laughing, his eyes crinkled up in the corners, and he looked so happy Joe didn’t stop him when he pressed his fingers to Joe’s cheekbone just underneath his eye. When he hooked his index fingers into the corners of Joe’s mouth and pulled until Joe was smiling back at him. Joe laughed despite himself.

Nick draped himself over Joe’s back, his arms tight around Joe’s shoulders, his chin in the crook of Joe’s neck. He watched Joe find the lock with the key. "I love you so much," he said. His lips brushed against Joe’s ear when his mouth moved. It was funny how his voice barely slurred at all.

"I-" Joe said. "I love you too." It was okay to say that. Joe had always loved him, ever since he’d grabbed Joe’s index finger in his tiny, just born baby fist and squeezed. Loving him was allowed. Joe finally got the door open. Nick was stuck to his back like a monkey, but he kept up pretty well, only stumbling once over the doorstep. Joe turned when they got to Nick’s bed, and bent backward until Nick was safely delivered to the mattress. Nick didn’t let go. Joe pried at Nick’s hands with a sigh, his legs starting to burn with the effort of not falling backwards.

"You can’t," Nick said. "Don’t leave." He pulled, and Joe landed flat on top of him, their bent legs tangling over the side of the bed.

"Nick," Joe said, trying to squirm away. "You’re too lumpy."

Nick licked him on the back of the neck, warm and wet.

Joe sucked in a gasp, his dick jumping hard against his pants. Oh God. This was not his fault. He had been so good. He rolled them both over on their sides, and the alcohol finally seemed to catch up to Nick because he sighed into Joe’s hair, and his arms got slack until he had just the one wrapped loosely around Joe’s waist. Joe wiggled out from under it, and when he turned to look, Nick’s eyes were closed, his breathing was heavy, deep. "That was not fair," Joe said under his breath. He put Nick’s aspirin and water on the bedside table. He stripped off Nick’s shoes and his socks. He started taking off Nick’s pants, then stopped abruptly when Nick’s stiff prick sprung up, poking out a little through the slit in his boxers. Joe stared at it, sucking both his lips in over his teeth. This would- This would be a good time to leave. He should probably leave now.

He finished pulling Nick’s pants off, and lifted his legs up on the bed, turning him gingerly. He kept a watch on Nick’s face, but his breathing was still deep, heavy.

Now. This was definitely when he should leave.

Joe toed off his own shoes, and tugged down his pants, hissing when the stiff fabric of his jeans caught on the swollen, over-sensitized flesh of his dick. He climbed in on the other side of Nick’s bed, turning on his side so his back was to Nick in some pathetic parody of modesty. Like he wasn't hoping, hoping so hard that Nick would touch him with his sleepy drunk hands, would roll up against him, would wake up twisted in Joe's arms and legs. It was- He knew it was a mistake. But if you give a starving man a hug, he’s going to eat it. Or- Something. If you give him a sandwich. The hug was a sandwich, right? And Joe was the starving- He could feel the bed move as Nick flopped over, as he curled in warm and tight over Joe’s back with his arm tucked around Joe’s waist. Joe closed his eyes. He could feel Nick against him, his hard cock pressing just below Joe’s ass, into the groove between his thighs. Nick moved, his hips snuggling in tighter. It felt so- It was so- Joe was just so, so hungry.

Joe turned around carefully underneath Nick’s arm, until they were lined up face to face. Nick’s eyes were still closed. Joe shifted until his cock was pressing against the heat of Nick's, and then he slid, rutting against Nick’s dick through the thin fabric of their boxers, two long, firm strokes. Three. Nick groaned, his head tossing back against his pillow. Joe sped up, less cautious at the sound of Nick panting, at the answering thrust of his hips. Nick’s eyes opened, and Joe looked away before he could see the drunk haze, before he could see all the reasons he should stop. He didn't want to stop. Nick's hips bucked against Joe's, and Joe looked down at the hard slide of their dicks together instead. He wrapped his hand around them both though the thin, damp fabric. Watched them move and move, circled by his hand. And it wasn't- It wasn’t _enough_.

He hooked his fingers in the sides of Nick’s boxers, tugged them down.

"Joe," Nick choked out. "Don’t-"

Joe slid down, ran his tongue, his teeth over the dark ink of Nick's tattoo like he would eat it off Nick's skin. He nuzzled his cheek against the slick heat of Nick's cock, the smell of him coating the back of Joe's throat. He took just the tip into his mouth, his tongue pressed flat underneath. He slid a tiny bit farther down, getting used to the feel of Nick in his mouth, heavy and thick, getting used to the sharp taste of him. Joe could feel Nick's heartbeat throbbing on his tongue like something alive, like he was holding Nick’s heart right in his mouth. He suckled a little, and Nick tensed, making a noise in the back of his throat. His hand came down on Joe's head, not pushing or pulling at him, just stroking gently through Joe's hair. Joe sighed, and Nick jerked against him. Joe started to move, slurpy, messy as he took a little more into his mouth. He looked up at Nick over the sharp planes of Nick's hips, over the smooth stretch of his belly, over the disheveled slant of his pushed up shirt, all the way up the curving line of his neck until Joe was brave enough to meet Nick's eyes. And Nick was looking at him, looking at him like- Just looking at him so wide open, and so soft, and so _wrecked_. It was like that look destroyed the entire world, and then rebuilt it with a blink into something completely different than Joe had ever thought could exist.

But then Nick's hand tightened in Joe's hair until it hurt, tightened and pulled, pulled Joe off his dick with a wet pop. Joe looked at Nick, and he felt so slow and so heavy and so hot he could barely- He couldn’t think, couldn’t- He tried to push down again, to get Nick back inside him. He needed- He needed- But Nick was holding him back, smoothing his hand over Joe's hair, shaking his head no.

"Don't-" Nick said. "I didn't mean to- You don't have to."

These were words that were strung together like Nick thought they made sense, but they didn't. Joe fought Nick's grip, wiggling himself closer to Nick's side, his lips on the underside of Nick's chin, his hard dick rubbing against Nick's hip, his thigh. "Want to, want to," he said, barely able to get the words out. "Please, Nick. Please let me-" Joe suckled on Nick's throat, his hands stroking at the chords standing strained in Nick's neck. "Please," he said. "Please." He bit down on Nick's collarbone, whimpering when his cock slid hard over the ridge of Nick's hip.

Nick's grip faltered on Joe's hair, his eyes squeezed shut tight, and then he opened them and he stared hard at Joe, focused and intense, until Joe felt like he was scooping out his insides. "I didn't mean to. I just wanted-" Nick leaned over and kissed him, sucking Joe's bottom lip into his mouth. Kissing Joe's open mouth, wet and slow. Filling Joe up with his tongue.

Nick pulled away and Joe was so fuzzy, so dizzy with needing him he felt like he was the one who was drunk. He whined, reaching, reaching to pull Nick back, wanting all Nick's heavy, hot weight on top of him. And oh- Yes. There he was. Nick's lips against his neck, his teeth on Joe's skin, and the hard push of his dick against Joe's stomach. And then his finger touched slick with lube against Joe's hole.

"Shhhhh," Nick said as he pressed inside. Joe arched into him, his breath going shaky. And it was- It was weird, but it was Nick. It was Nick inside him, so it was okay. It was good. And then Nick crooked his finger, crooked it over something that made Joe gasp and twist helplessly against the bed because it was so _good_. Joe winced a little at the stretch, the burn, as Nick added a second finger, a third, careful and methodical in his Nick way even when his pupils were dark, wide and his cock was dripping. Even when Joe was panting and shaking on his fingers, lost, half-blind and deaf, more than half maybe like something in him had shorted out. Even then Nick was in control, precise.

That was kind of weird, wasn't it?

Joe blinked at Nick slowly, groggy with want. Nick was saying something, something about England, and some guy he knew there, and he was going to make it good, and- Joe didn't know, none of it made sense, because all he was hearing was how Nick's voice wasn't slurred at all, and Nick's eyes were sharp clear focused, and Nick was _not drunk_. Not drunk at all.

"You're not drunk," he said, the words thick on his tongue. It wasn't a question.

Nick stopped talking, his face going wary. "No," he admitted slowly. And at least he had the decency to blush. "Um. Not exactly."

"What the _hell_ , Nick?"

"You wouldn't talk to me," he said, and it would have been hilarious how pouty he sounded, how incredibly like a spoiled kid he sounded right then. It would have been hilarious if Joe weren't busy trying to wrap his head around all the ways this was _fucked up_. "You just- Kind of disappeared. I missed you," Nick said. "And I needed- I knew- You always-" This was a weird conversation to be having with Nick's fingers up his ass. Joe knew probably he should put his foot down or something, but he was so filled up with Nick's heat it was really hard to be angry or to care that he was being a pushover or to think thoughts. "I knew you'd take care of me if you thought I was drunk." Nick had a little embarrassed smile on his face, his hand petting the nape of Joe's neck absently. And he was giving Joe something awfully close to that look, the look that could remake the world, close enough that Joe kind of just wanted to crawl inside Nick as far as he could get and never come out.

"You're a devious little shit." Joe punched him once, hard enough to hurt his hand because even if Joe had basically no spine and was like two seconds away from forgiving him, Nick should at least know that these kinds of shenanigans were not okay.

Nick winced, and nodded.

"And a surprisingly good actor," Joe relented. The thing was, relenting seemed like the fastest way to maybe get Nick to finish fucking him.

Nick laughed, gleeful, a little boy laugh. It was- Ugh. It was so _cute_. "I'm really sorry." He started to ease his fingers out, but Joe's hand closed over his wrist.

"Don't stop," he said.

Whatever. He'd never had much dignity anyway.

*

Nick's cock nudged against him, blunt, thick. He pushed in slow, and oh- It _hurt_. Joe's hands clenched in the sheets, his teeth gritting. His eyes watered, and he fought to just breathe. Nick's hands stroked down his sides, gentle, and he said "Joe?" like maybe he thought he should stop. The thought of him stopping was more terrifying than the pain.

"Hnnnngfh," Joe said, because he couldn’t actually figure out how to make his tongue work right now. But it seemed like Nick got it because he pushed hard, hard enough to slide in almost all the way. He braced himself over Joe's back, panting hard, and Joe could feel Nick's breath on his neck, and the heat of his chest, the huge, hard burn of him splitting Joe open. Joe could feel the tension in Nick's arms, the strain of not moving. Nick sucked wet marks into Joe's shoulder, waiting until Joe started to ease, until the pain felt like something- Something less like pain. Then Nick moved inside him, working in deeper, angling to hit that spot inside that made Joe's dick jerk against his belly, that made it _good_.

Nick pushed into him deep, hard. Fucked into him until Joe was grunting, skidding forward a little bit on the side of his face because his arms had quit holding him up. Nick grabbed on tighter, keeping him steady, his fingers pressing confident into Joe's hips, and his dick sliding in exactly where Joe needed it, filling him up. Full. Full. Again. Again. His other hand circled Joe's dick, stroking him, pushing the spiraling heat inside him tighter and tighter until Joe just closed his eyes, exhaling harsh sounds with each thrust.

He could feel the exact moment Nick lost it, lost control, stopped being so precise, so _Nick_. His thrusts got harder, jerkier, faster. His hand came off Joe's dick, both his hands on Joe's hips now, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. Deeper. Desperate. Needy. Nick's head came down between Joe's shoulder blades, sweaty forehead sliding, hips rutting into Joe fast, fast. Joe was going to feel this tomorrow. Every time he moved he was going to feel it deep.

Joe came with a stuttery moan, tensing, shooting into Nick's sheets. He collapsed under Nick, too fucked out to hold himself up. Nick moved into him, covering him up. Again. Again. And then he felt Nick jerking inside him, his teeth biting down on Joe's shoulder blade, his hips still fucking into Joe in erratic little jolts.

When he pulled out, Joe felt hollowed out, emptied. Nick rolled him over onto his back, out of the wet spot he'd left on the sheets. Joe curled into Nick's side, just breathing Nick in, feeling Nick's skin pressed up against him warm and sweaty, feeling the hot ache where Nick had been inside him.

"Should we talk?" Nick said.

Joe shook his head. His head seemed really heavy. He flopped his arm over Nick's waist. His arm seemed really heavy too.

"But maybe we should-" Nick started.

Joe pinched Nick's nipple hard between his fingers and twisted until Nick stopped talking with a choked off gasp. Joe pressed his lips to Nick's, taking advantage of the way his mouth had fallen open to try to suck out all the air, all the words, just lick them out with his tongue.

It seemed like it was working.

*

"So, listen," Joe said.

Nick made a half-asleep grunty noise.

" _Listen_ ," Joe said, poking at Nick's cheek until he opened his eyes.

"Oh, now you want to talk," Nick said. "Now that I am _sleeping_.

"I've been thinking."

"This should be good." Nick had his eyes closed, and Joe traced gently over his closed eyelid with his index finger. He slid his finger down the bridge of Nick's nose until he hit Nick's upper lip.

"I've been thinking that you really don't need a wife to settle down."

Nick cracked an eye back open.

"I mean," Joe said. "You can still have all the stuff you wanted. The home-cooked meals and the sitting by the fire and the waking up next to someone warm. And very attractive."

"Being woken up, you mean," Nick said. "In the middle of the night."

"By someone warm and very attractive," Joe insisted.

"Yes," Nick said. "You're very pretty."

"I'm way better than a wife."

"If I agree, will you please stop talking?"

"I mean, wives are- You have to buy them jewelry, and remember their anniversaries and stuff. You don't have to buy me any jewelry."

"Joe." Nick rolled over and crushed his face into the side of Joe's neck. "Right now I want to go back to sleep next to someone warm and very attractive. Can you help me out with that?"

So Joe did.

end


End file.
